Lecciones Espanolas
by Annie Wright
Summary: "Look, John...I know you're scared. So am I. But you're the one who has to take the chance, not me. I took my chance the other night."


Title: Lecciones Españolas  
Author: Annie Wright (AnnieW177@aol.com)  
Category: post-ep for 'Audrey Pauley', DRR  
Rating: PG  
Archive: just let me know so I can visit  
Disclaimer: does anyone even read these?   
Summary: "Look, John...I know you're scared. So am I. But you're the one who has to take the chance, not me. I took my chance the other night."  
  
Author's notes at the end  
  
  
"Audrey." It hurts my throat to speak, but I have to tell him. I see his eyes register understanding, and like a shot he's off down the hall.  
"Monica," Dana's voice is soft, comforting. "Don't try to talk."  
I roll my eyes-she should know by now that telling me not to talk is like telling a fish not to swim.   
"Your mom and dad are on their way."  
"What?" is all I can manage, a hoarse whisper. "From Mexico?"  
"Yes. They, uh...they don't know you're awake. They think they're coming to say goodbye."  
I sigh. "When will they be here?"  
"Late tonight, they'll be by in the morning. Now stop talking." Her voice is firm now, but she smiles. "You had us all very worried."  
"John?" I know it's pathetic, but I have to know for sure.  
Dana bites her lip, thinking. "Yes, especially John. He was the one who refused to let them turn off the life support...he figured out it was Dr. Preijers who was killing patients."  
Since I'm not allowed to talk, I give her a look instead. She knows very well what I mean.  
"He was devastated, Monica. He never once left your side."  
That's the goods. I nod. "Thank you."  
She smiles at me. "I'm going to go call Skinner, and then call it a night. Do you want anything before I go?"  
If I answer, 'John', will she laugh? Probably not. I shake my head.   
"Okay, well...I'll be by tomorrow. Get some rest."  
The door closes with a snick and again I'm alone. I sit back, thinking; Mamí and Papí will come and hover over me like mother hens, driving me slowly nuts. Dana will tell me not to talk, not to do this or that or the other, and Skinner-you know, I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about anyone but John.  
I hear the door open and John comes in, winded. "How'd you know about Audrey?"  
"She was there."  
He sits down next to me on the bed, taking my hand. "Well, Dr. Preijers got to her before I could, but I got enough on him to get him a nice stay at the DC lockup." His other hand moves to my face, caressing my cheek with his thumb. I can't help but lean into his touch, it feels so right, giving me butterflies in my stomach.  
"I thought I lost you," he said, his blue eyes shining in the dim light of my room. "I thought I'd lost someone else. I can't lose you too, Monica..."   
I sit up. "You won't. You haven't. I'm right here." I sigh. "Look, John...I know you're scared. So am I. But you're the one who has to take the chance, not me. I took my chance the other night." He looks at me, afraid and apprehensive. "Audrey told me how you feel, John. And I don't know if she said it because it's what I wanted to hear, or because it's the truth. But I know how I feel, and what I want."  
"And what do you want?"   
"I want you to stay with me tonight." I can't believe I've just said it, but I have. I must be on some kind of powerful drug-asking a man to stay with me when my parents will be here at any moment.  
He slips his suitcoat off and throws it over the back of the chair. I scoot over in this already narrow bed, and he lies down next to me, settling on his side and resting his arm on me lightly. It's been a long time since John's been in my bed, curled up behind me-too long. But I remember that this was his favorite way to sleep, pressed up against my back, and I smile, turning slightly.  
"I won't break."  
He smiles. "It's been a long time since I've been...well, nevermind."  
"As if I mean it like that." I turn all the way around. "At least not for tonight I don't." His eyes look deeply into mine, and I feel a funny, fluttery sensation in my stomach. "I mean...I do eventually, if it's what you want."  
He leans forward and rubs his nose against mine, his eyes closing. "I do." His breath is warm on my face, and before I know what is happening his hands are on my face and he's kissing me so gently, so softly I could cry.   
"Let's get some rest, okay?" he says against my mouth. "I don't know about you, but I certainly need it." He reaches up and flips off the light above my bed, and the room darkens. He then pulls me close again, kissing the top of my head before settling down.  
I put my head on his chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heart beating, steady and strong.  
  
  
  
  
"Monica."   
"Urrhmm," I grunt, desperately trying to hold tight to whatever it is I'm holding onto.   
"Monica." This time the voice reaches out and shakes me gently.  
"Hmmm?" This thing I'm holding is nice and warm and...breathing? The events of last night come back to me and I smile, remembering.  
"I know you're up." I recognize the voice as Dana's. "Your parents are on their way." She keeps her voice low, trying to avoid waking John.   
"What? Now?" That certainly got my attention. "It's only..." I look at the clock. 9am. "Shit. John." I shake him gently. "John, you gotta get up."   
His arm tightens around me. "Not yet, darlin'."   
"My parents are on their way."   
He cracks open one blue eye. "What? Now? What time is it?"  
"Nine."  
"Shit." He sits up and sees Scully, who is standing at the foot of the bed trying to conceal a grin-poorly, I'd like to add. "Uh, hey there, Scully."  
"It's a good thing I got here before Skinner." She snickers at her own joke. "Anyway, Monica, your parents will be here shortly. Thought I'd come and warn you."  
"Thanks."  
John grabs his coat off the chair and leans in to give me a kiss. "I'll be back later."  
"What? You aren't going to stay and meet my folks?"   
He smiles. "I'll come back in a bit. I need to go and take a shower, check on Dr. Preijers, do some paperwork. I'll come back for lunch."  
After he goes, Scully turns to me with a knowing smile. "So, good night?"  
I can feel my face turn red. "You could say that."  
The door bursts open and in come my parents, in all their overprotective glory.  
"Monica!" My mother rushes over to me, practically knocking Scully over in the process. She practically smothers me with kisses. "M'ija, I thought you were dead!"  
"Mamí, I'm fine. Honest." She pushes my hair away from my face and her warm brown eyes search mine. "Honestamente. Estoy muy bien."  
"How can you be fine? 18 hours ago I get a call saying my baby girl is lying dead in a hospital, and then I come here and you're muy bien. How is this possible?" She sits down on my bed and takes my hand. "It's a miracle."  
I give my father a pleading look. Wisely he's kept himself away from the hurricane that is my mother, standing at the foot of my bed with Scully.   
"Mamí, Papí, this is Dana Scully," I say, hoping to get my mother off this train of thought or we'll be here all day. "Dana works with me."  
My father, ever the gentleman, shakes her hand. "Diego Reyes. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for helping our daughter."  
Scully smiles graciously. "I had nothing to do with this."  
My mother smiles at Scully, and I can tell she's giving her the once over, putting it all together: red hair, Irish last name, cross around her neck....and here it comes.  
"Do you believe in miracles, Miss Scully?"  
"Yes, I do. This, however, was not a miracle." She smiles at my mother. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it was very good investigative work that saved Monica, and I'm sorry to say that I didn't have any part of it."  
"Then who did?" My mother's eyes are bright with tears, and I am moved by her unquestioning love for me. "We must thank them."  
"Her partner discovered that the doctor was killing his patients by a very hard to detect method. If you want to thank someone, thank her partner."  
My mother turns back to me. "What's this partner of yours like? I hear nothing about him from you."  
"He's...he's wonderful, Mamí," I say, hoping I'm not blushing. "You'll like him."  
"And does this man have a name?" She's staring at me, trying to read me. I can see by the look in her eyes she suspects something.   
"John." I shoot my father another pleading look, and this time he winks at me.   
"Mate, let's go and let Monica get some rest." He puts his hand on my mother's shoulder. "She looks awfully tired. Let's go get some food, eh?"  
Reluctantly my mother gets up, kissing me again. "Get some sleep, okay?"  
"Yes, Mom."  
My father leans over and hugs me. "You know how your mother can be," he whispers, his moustache tickling my face. "I'm just glad you're okay, that you're alive." He places a sound kiss on my cheek. "Te amo, m'ija."  
"I love you too, Papí."  
They leave, and I heave a huge sigh of relief. "Those are my parents," I say to Scully.   
She chuckles. "My mom's the same way."  
"Irish Catholic, Mexican Catholic...it's all the same." I yawn. "I don't know why I'm so tired...I've been asleep for days."  
"Did we get any sleep last night?" Scully's eyebrow is raised in that way she has that makes me feel like a little kid again, a kid who's been caught being naughty.  
"Yes, Sister Dana. I don't exactly think I'm up for anything particularly athletic these days."   
"True. Well, I'm gonna head to the office, I'll be back later. Can I bring you anything? A book? A magazine?"  
"Yes, anything. Please. Well...not those issues of Celebrity Skin I found in the desk."  
Scully laughs. "I had forgotten those were even there."  
"Well, it was a nasty surprise to find, let me tell you. And no Scientific American, either. I want fluff."  
"Romance novels, Cosmo?"  
"Sounds great."  
She turns to go, but stops. "And if I see your partner, shall I give him any messages?" She's got this look on her face, like she feels silly for asking but she just couldn't stop herself.  
"Tell him he's turned me into a dog person." Scully looks perplexed, but I laugh. "He'll know what it means."  
  
  
  
  
I'm awakened by John's hand in my hair. I know it's him by the smell-Ivory soap. He's used it for as long as I've known him, probably his whole life.  
I open my eyes and sure enough he's sitting there, watching me sleep.  
"Hey, good lookin'," he says, smiling at me.  
"Hi." I feel like my grin is so big it will split my face. I see behind him a vase of black-eyed Susans, sitting on the bedside table. "Those for me?"  
"No, they're for my other partner."  
I love black-eyed Susans. Long ago, back when John and I had first been involved, he had brought me flowers. It was only once, and only because they had busted a drug ring working out of a flower vendor down in Little Italy. He'd shown up at my door with black-eyed Susans and said he'd chosen them because they reminded him of me.   
"You know I love those flowers."  
"And I know why, too." He leans forward and kisses me softly. "Don't wanna be caught makin' out with the miracle girl."  
"I see you've talked with Scully."  
"Says your mom's a card."  
"That's one way to put it." I sigh. "Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. I love her very much. But she's like...I don't know, too much."  
He laughs. "I feel like I'm up for inspection."  
"Oh, you are." His forehead creases with worry, and I laugh. "Don't look so upset, John. You've saved my life, they like you already." I reach out and place my hand on his face. "And it doesn't matter what they think."  
He kisses my palm gently, and my legs tingle. Good thing I'm sitting.   
The door bursts open and John jumps a mile. My mother bustles in, arms filled with bags. "Monica...oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company."   
Her eyes look him up and down, and I can almost hear what she's thinking-tall enough, nice eyes, ears a bit large...she smiles at him winningly.  
"You must be John."  
"Yes, ma'am," he says, taking the bags from her. "John Doggett."  
"It's a pleasure to meet the man who saved my daughter," she says, extending her hand. "Maria Teresa Reyes, but call me Mate."  
Whoa. Nobody calls Mamí Mate except my father. She must like him. "Where's Papí?" I ask.   
"He's on the phone to Angela in Galveston," she replies, smiling at me but still looking at John. "Sharing the wonderful news." She sits on the bed next to me. "So, John Doggett, tell me about yourself. How did you become an FBI agent?" Mamí pats the chair and John sits obligingly.  
"I, uh, I used to work for the NYPD...that's where I met Monica."  
"Ah," she says. "Did you work on a case together?"  
I can see John's eyes cloud over, and I want so badly to stop this conversation, but I can't do it without being obvious.   
Oh, fuck it.  
"Mamí, did you see the flowers John brought me?"   
She gives me a stern look, but replies anyway. "Yes, they're lovely. How very thoughtful of you, John."   
Again the door opens and my father appears, smiling. "Angela sends her love."  
"How is she?" I ask as my father pulls up another chair and sits next to John.   
"Fine." He looks over at John. "You must be John. It's nice to meet you." He shakes John's hand firmly. "Thank you for saving our Monica."  
The tips of John's ears turn red in embarrassment. "It was nothin', really."  
"Don't be modest." My mother smiles at him. "We'd like to take you to dinner, to thank you."  
"Oh, no, really, that's not necessary."   
"No, we insist." My mother was firm. "You saved our daughter, it's the very least we can do."  
He looks at me with a look I can only describe as uneasy. "Uh..okay, sure. Thank you." He stands up. "I, uh, gotta get back to work. I'll be back later. It was nice to meet you."   
"Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely."   
He kisses my forehead. "My pleasure. I'll be back."  
He leaves, and my mother is all over me. "Monica, he's very nice."  
"I told you that you'd like him."  
"And muy guapo. His ears are a bit big, but he's quite handsome."  
"Mate," my father says with a laugh, "is that all you can say? Big ears but he's good-looking anyway?"  
"He seems to love our girl," she says, patting my hand.   
"Mamí," I say, blushing. "He's an old friend."  
"And what was that you interrupted?" she asks sternly. I was hoping she'd forget.  
"That's not a good topic."  
"Why not?"  
I sigh. "I met John when I was investigating the kidnapping of his son."  
"He's married?" My mother's eyes widen, and I hear my father heave a big sigh.  
"No...he's divorced."  
"Divorciado?" I swear she's about to have a heart attack.  
"Mamí...yes, divorced." This time I sigh. "His son was kidnapped, they called the FBI. I found his son...dead. He and his wife divorced shortly after."  
"Ay, Dios," she says. "No wonder he looks so sad. He has sad eyes."  
"Yeah, he does."  
"And so you met him this way? By finding his son?"  
"Yes. We stayed friends. He joined the FBI, I went to New Orleans...we kept in touch."  
She nods. "I see." The thing is, though, I think she does see, and I don't know how she feels about it. My mother has always had a sixth sense about me-she could always tell when I was lying. If she suspects we had an affair many years ago, I pray she keeps it to herself.  
"What's in the bags?"  
"I brought you some fruit, some magazines." She bustles over to the bags. "Toothpaste, a toothbrush."  
"I have all these things at home."  
"Yes, I know." She hands me an apple. "Eat. You're too thin."  
I'm not really hungry, but to appease her, I take a bite.   
"You never told me how Angie was," I say to my father to break the silence.  
"Angie is fine, says she'll call you later on tonight," he replies. "Couldn't barely hear her with all those kids of hers running around."  
I sigh. What I really want is to be alone. My mother hears me sigh and looks at me, her dark eyes concerned.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Promise me you won't get mad at me."  
"Promesa. Now tell me."  
"I don't want you two to interrogate John. He's nervous enough as it is. It's been a rough couple of weeks for him, and I think you interrogating him is only making him more nervous. Don't ask about our past, don't ask about the NYPD or Luke or anything like that, okay? Stick to NASCAR and hunting and football."  
My father laughs. "M'ija, you think we scare him?"  
"Yes!"  
My father chuckles heartily at this. "You like him, which is enough for us. He saved your life, and we are grateful. And it's plain to see that you love him."  
"Papí!"   
"What? Look, Monica," he leans forward, his eyes earnest. "You love him. It's all over your face. And he loves you. There is no need to be ashamed or afraid. What is past is past-I don't care if he's divorced, I don't care if you two had some torrid affair. You're in love, and I, for one, like seeing it."  
I can't help but laugh; my father is so straightforward. "Yes, but he's been hurt. Badly. I don't want him to rush into anything, okay? Let it happen slowly, please, don't force it." I search my father's face for some sign of understanding, some sign that he gets it and will leave well enough alone.   
"Of course, amor. No mention of the look on his face when he looks at you."  
"Gracias, Papí."   
He gets up and kisses me. "We'll go. Angie will be calling soon. Come on, Mate."  
  
  
  
  
"Hola, prima." Angie's accent is horrible, and I make a face.  
"This is what happens when we move up north and make friends with the gringos," I reply. "Our accents turn to shit."  
"So who's this John Doggett?" she asks, cutting right to the chase. "Is this who I think it is?"  
"Yes."  
"The married guy?"   
"He's not married anymore, Angie."  
"Isn't that convenient. Have you picked up where you left off in New York?"  
"No."  
"No? Why the hell not?"  
I sigh and wrap the phone cord around my finger. "His son was killed, his wife leaves him...the whole affair was just a backlash to all of that."  
"But you work together now? What's up with that?"  
"We stayed in touch...friends. He had an opening in his division in the Bureau, asked me to come and work with him."  
"Why you?"  
"Because the X-Files deal with unexplained phenomena. Right up my alley, wouldn't you agree?"  
"Yeah, I would. So why haven't you two...you know?"  
"It's complicated."  
"Tell me. I've got time."  
I pause. "I dunno, Angie. I mean...we did kinda talk about it the other night."  
"And?"  
"And I know we really do care about each other, but I think we should take it slow. I mean, he's lost a lot of people in his life, and I want him to be sure that this is what he wants, that he's ready to take this risk again."  
"Do you love him, Mon?"  
"God yes."  
"Does he love you?"  
"I think so, yeah."  
"He just saved your life, Monica. I'd say that's a definite yes."  
"Yeah, well...he has to deal with Mate."  
"Ahhhh yes, Tía Mate." Angie laughs. "If he survives this, Monica, he's a keeper."  
"He's done okay so far, but I think she intimidates him."  
"Your mother intimidates everyone."  
"You've never met John Doggett, Angie. He's not easily intimidated." The door opens and John comes in, checking around first to see if my parents have left. He sees I'm on the phone and makes a move to leave, but I wave him in. "Speak of the devil."  
"Is he there?"  
"Yep, just walked in." He sits down on the bed and kisses me gently.   
"Who's on the phone?" he asks.  
"My cousin Angie."  
"Oooh, he's got a sexy voice," Angie says. "Can I talk to him?"  
I hand him the phone. "She likes your voice."  
He gives me a confused look but takes the phone. "Hello?" There's silence, and I can imagine Angie talking a mile a minute, hands waving madly as though she were Italian and not Mexican. John's ears turn red, and she must have said something quite flattering, because he's smiling and laughing. "Well, why don't you come up here to Washington?" I roll my eyes...Angie's certainly laying it on thick. "Well, I'll think about it. Here's Monica." He hands me the phone.   
"Ang?"  
"Mon, he sounds gorgeous."  
"Yeah, well..."  
"Okay, that's my cue to get off the phone. Call me later, we'll talk."  
"No problem."  
"Behave yourself, chica. Remember, God is watching." Angie clicks off, and I laugh.  
"She's a character," John says.   
"Runs in the family." I notice he looks troubled. "You okay?"  
He sighs. "Monica, please talk your folks out of taking me to dinner."  
"Why?"  
"Because, it's not necessary."  
"It is to them."  
"Look, you're alive, that's enough for me. I don't need to be thanked for it."  
"But John..."  
"I was just doin' my job, Monica. I don't need to be thanked for that."  
I feel as though I've just been slapped. Just doing his job?   
He obviously sees the hurt in my eyes because he immediately begins to speak. "No, Mon, it's not like that, I didn't mean it that way..."  
"I think you should go."  
"What?" His eyes are pleading. "Monica, I think you misunderstood."  
"No, I think I understood perfectly. I pour my heart out to you, try hard not to be pushy or too forward or whatever...and here you were all along, just doing your job like a good Fed." I hate being angry, but I hate being hurt even more.   
"Why are you doin' this?" he asks, and I hear his temper rising in his voice.   
"You're the one who said that saving me was 'just doing your job'."  
"And you won't let me explain."  
"What else is there to explain, John?"   
"You know what? You're tired, you've been through a lot. God knows I need some sleep as well. So I'm gonna go home and get some sleep, and you call me when your folks have decided what they want to do, okay? Or if you don't wanna call, have your mom call me." I can tell he's angry, but he kisses the top of my head before he leaves, shutting the door a little more forcefully than necessary.   
All I can do is lay back on my pillow and cry, which is exactly what I do.  
  
  
  
  
There's a knock on my door, and there's John in jeans and a button down, nothing fancy.   
"You ready?" His voice is steady, and he's avoiding my glances. No hello kiss, no nothing-just standing at my door, hands in his pockets.   
"Yeah." I slip my coat on and we head down to his truck. He doesn't open the door for me as usual, instead sliding into the drivers side and unlocking the door from the inside.   
He's got the radio on, and he turns it up a bit, so there's no conversation. Mentally I'm kicking myself-I brought this on, I picked this fight, I let my stupid pride get in the way of something beautiful. After that night we'd fought again-again, my fault, my hurt feelings manifesting themselves as anger. I thought I had gotten past this.   
I'm such a dumbass.  
Angie had yelled at me when I told her-"You what? Are you loco? Monica, the man is crazy about you! Why did you go and pick a fight?"  
"Because it hurt, Angie."  
"But Mon, he's not altogether incorrect-protecting you is his job. He was trying to be modest, dumbass-why'd you go and rip him a new asshole?"  
"Angela, I don't need a lecture to make me feel bad, I feel like shit already."  
"So apologize."  
"I can't."  
"You won't."  
John stops at a red light and turns to look at me. "You feelin' okay?"  
"Yeah."  
"You look upset."  
"I'm good."  
I turn to look at him and I see that he is genuinely concerned. I want so much to reach out to him, to touch that face...but my damn pride stops me, and I force a smile that even I can tell looks fake.  
We park the car and walk the half a block to Houston's, where my parents are waiting. My mother greets him warmly, with hugs and kisses, and he actually looks relaxed about it.   
"What happened between you two?" my mother asks as she hugs me. "Did you fight?"  
"Yes."  
"Ay, Monica, what did you say?" The look she gives me is stern, and I feel even guiltier than I already do.   
"It was a big misunderstanding."  
"What?"  
"He said something, I deliberately took it the wrong way." I look over and see John in an animated conversation with my father.   
"Monica, whatever it is, you must make up."   
"Why?"  
This makes her laugh. "Because, m'ija, you love him. It's not easy to stay mad at someone we love. I'm willing to bet you took whatever it is he said the wrong way because you wanted to pick a fight with him."  
"No."   
"Yes." Her brown eyes bore into mine with intensity. "You can't fool your mother. He's in this for the long haul, Monica. Give him some time, he'll be having you weak in the knees for him again in no time."  
"Mamí!"  
She kisses my cheek. "What, you think I don't know he makes you weak in the knees? Chiquita, a mother knows."  
  
  
  
There's no conversation on the way back to my place, either. However, when we pull up at my place he gets out and opens the truck door for me. We stand, staring at each other for a brief moment, and I'm so tempted to just kiss him and make it all better.  
"Good night."  
I force myself to smile. "Good night."   
The walk up to my apartment seems long and lonely, and my apartment seems big and lonely when I finally let myself in. I throw my coat on a chair and kick my shoes off and flop down on the couch, mentally berating myself.  
I'm just reaching the point in my self-berating where I tell myself how stupid I am when there's a knock on my door. Sighing, I get up to answer it.  
"John?" Despite myself, I feel my heartbeat speed up a bit. He's come back-that has to be good. Maybe I didn't screw it all up after all.  
"Can I come in?" He walks in and past me, and then turns around and walks back.   
"Are you okay?"  
Suddenly, he takes me by the shoulders. "Mon, I was an insensitive asshole, and I'm sorry."  
"No, John, I'm sorry. I deliberately took what you said wrong."  
"Why?"  
I can feel tears pricking behind my eyes. "Because that's not the reason I wanted to hear when you explained why you saved me."  
"What? You wanted me to say it's because I...care about you? You already knew that, Mon." His hands have moved from my shoulders up to my face, and he's stroking my neck and my face so gently, his sad eyes looking at me, looking into me.   
"No, I didn't." My attempt to fight the tears is in vain. John tenderly wipes them away with his thumbs.  
"Well, that's the reason, now you know. But it is part of my job, protectin' you."  
"I know." I kiss him softly and lead him to the couch, where we sit, arms around each other. "Can I ask a question?"  
His mouth is hot on my ear as he kisses it, making his way to my neck. "Shoot."  
"Do you ever think you'll be able to say it to me?"  
"Say what?" He's kissing my shoulder now, deftly unbuttoning the top button of my blouse with one hand.   
"Tell me you love me." He stops what he's doing and looks up at me. "I mean, I don't expect it now, or even soon...but eventually, someday?"  
He takes a deep breath. "I feel it, but I can't say it. It's like I'm cursed...anyone I say that to gets hurt. I do feel it for you, Monica. But sayin' it's a bit of a problem."  
"Te quiero." I kiss him. "That's how you can say it. I don't care if that's the only Spanish you know, that's how you can say it when you're ready."  
"Maybe I wanna learn more Spanish." His eyes twinkle mischievously. "Maybe talkin' sweet to you will sound better in another language."  
I smile coyly and lean forward to kiss his eyes. "Los ojos," I whisper, moving down and kissing his nose. "La nariz." I then kiss his mouth, long and slow. "La boca."  
"Maybe we should move to the bedroom." His voice is throaty and low. "Continue my Spanish lesson in there."  
"I like that idea."   
  
  
  
The next morning when I woke up, I was alone in bed but there was a note by my head. His writing was chicken scratch but his Spanish was near-perfect, saying he'd gone for coffee and bagels and he'd be back.   
Spanish? Since when did John speak enough Spanish to write me a note about breakfast? Suddenly it dawned on me...I'd been had.  
I heard my front door open and a moment later John appeared in my bedroom door. "I didn't wanna wake ya, but I was gettin' kinda hungry."  
"What's this?" I ask, slightly peeved and, much to my own dismay, highly amused.   
He looks confused. "It's a note."  
I get up on my knees, shoving the note in his face. "And what language is this note in?" The tips of his ears turn red, and I try hard not to laugh.   
"Pig latin?"  
I grab a pillow and whack him hard with it. "Why didn't you tell me you spoke Spanish?"   
He easily deflects my blow and grabs the pillow from me, throwing it back onto the bed before stepping close to me and placing his nose to mine. "A guy's gotta have some secrets."  
"You sneak. You lied to me."   
"No, I never said I didn't know Spanish. I just said I'd like to learn more. Big difference." He leans in ever so slightly and kisses me. After a moment I grab him and throw him on the bed, pinning him to the mattress.  
"Whoa! What's that for?" John asks with a grin.  
"That's what you get for lying to me. Now get undressed."  
His smile is mischievous. "If this is what I'm gonna get every time I lie to you, I'll do it more often."  
"Don't even think about it." I yank his shirt over his head. "This was a freebie. Next time'll cost you."  
"I'll take that chance." He kisses me and flips me onto my back, stopping to stare at me.   
"What?" I ask, sitting up slightly. "John?"  
"Just thinkin' how lucky I am to be here, now, with you." He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "I don't wanna be anywhere else."  
"I knew there was a softie behind that tough-guy image," I reply, smiling. "Now shut up and make love to me."  
"With pleasure."  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I thought the end of 'Audrey Pauley' sucked like a cheap hooker. What was THAT about...no kiss, no nothing, just more denial? Did John learn NOTHING? I think not. This is my attempt to explain the weirdness because I totally refuse to think that John's as big a dumbass as they made him out to be at the end of this ep.   
  
Many thanks to my wonderful betas: Sarah, Lisa, and Megan, you guys rock my world!   
  
New Dell laptop: $1300  
Graduate School tuition: $26,000 plus books   
Season 6 of the X-Files, pre-ordered on Amazon.com : $120.00  
Feedback from fanfic readers: Priceless  
  
Thanks for reading :) 


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